We're Toys
by mayuluh
Summary: Jessie found the right question, Woody answered by telling his past. Post-TS3/Oneshot


"Woody..." Jessie started, pulling on her braid, nervously.

"Yeah?" Woody answered back cautiously. He noticed how Jessie pulled her hair, knowing that it was never a good sign.

"Well," She gulped. "B-back at the daycare, you said that it was a sad place for toys who don't have owners."

"Yeah, you saw it yourself." Woody answered curiously. "Why? Is something wrong?" Jessie being nervous and fidgety? Something's definitely wrong.

"Uhm... ah. I was just, curious though." She gave a nervous laugh. Woody gave her a deadpanned look. Liar. But he didn't push her. He knew once she had her mind made up, she won't give.

He didn't need to push her though, because she took a deep breath and said "But, Woody, how did you know?" in a rapid chatter. "I-I mean, Hamm told me that you were Andy's toy since he was kindergarten and all, but, if you know what daycare was like then-"

"Whoa, who, whoa!" Woody chuckled, "Back up. Slow down. Hold your horses, Jes." Woody smiled warmly. He rubbed the back of his neck, stared at the carpet floor, and thought to himself.

"Breathe..." Jessie whispered to herself while she waited. Deep inhale. Slow exhale. That was better.

She looked at Woody, who was drumming his fingers on the solid wood of the bed, and she could tell he was arguing with himself whether to tell her something she didn't know, or to wave it off. She refused to be the one to break the silence.

Woody gazed at her again. "Well, no need to get all upset but-" he sighed to himself. "Yeah, I was in a daycare once." _Someone's going to know, sooner or later. _He thought to himself.

She gasped, both in surprised and shock. "Oh, I'm sorry. What happened?" she asked softly.

"It's... it's not really a good story to tell." he answered back. "I wouldn't want you to think differently of me." he smiled sadly.

But something compelled her to know. Like there was a whole other side of her friend that she didn't know. "It's okay. I can take it." She didn't notice that Bullseye had found them both from the corner of the bed, and taken a seat between the two dolls conversing. "Well, Bullseye and I can. Right, bud?" she ruffled the critter's felt-paper hair. He licked her face lovingly, getting a giggle from the young cowgirl.

"Well, if you really want to know. You can't tell anyone else." Woody sat down as well. "Not yet, anyway. They _can't. Can't_. Find out. Okay?"

Her lips were sealed. She pulled an imaginary zipper across her mouth to indicate so. This must be really something if she had to keep it to herself.

"Well, where do I start?" Woody asked to himself. "Hmmm... Slinky and I came from the same daycare center. It wasn't as classy or good-looking as Sunnyside. They called it Bright Kids Children Center." he smiled at the thought, as if bringing up some old dusty memory deep within his mind. "No, I think, it was before that..."

He remembered it like it was yesterday.

"His name was Timmy."

Bright chocolate brown hair. Expressive young eyes. Gentle smile. He was such a great kid. His father was one of those old -fashion toymakers at that time before plastic was mass produced. He was _hand made_ by millions. Only those kids from rich families, or those kids with well-off parents could buy the cowboy doll. But he wasn't one of those dolls who got bought or given. He was thrown out.

Jessie gasped. "Thrown out? You mean-"

"Yeah, I was a defect." There were more just like him. Toy makers who gave up on fixing his parts, and just resolved to make a new, or better one than waste time with an old toy. "A poor toy maker who came by the dumpster took me in, never gave up on me, fixed me up like I was brand new, and gave me to his son." He reached for his hand-stitched arms. Sometimes, he could still feel a numbing pain of needles between the ripped seams. It was as if the phantom pain of being an unfinished toy still haunted him.

The cold, dark trashcan with metallic gray walls. Spare parts scattered around him. Molded arms. Melted feet. Plastic fingers. Dirty white eyes.

"So, that's how I started being a toy, a child's plaything." Woody continued. "You should've seen Tom's face. He came from school, after being bullied by another kid. Then his father saw him, and gave me." He gestured to his whole body. "He told him, that I was special, and that I'd take care of him. He smiled so brightly, and he held me like..." He sighed sadly.

Jessie was too engrossed in his story to think of a snarky comment. "What happened?"

Woody closed his eyes. "I was passed down from father to son for _generations_. You wouldn't believe how long I had to wait. How many days in a plastic bag. How many months in a-a dusty box. How many years in a dark trunk on the attic." Hoping that one day, he'd get to be played again. Hoping that there would be a new child in the family soon. Hoping that he wouldn't be forgotten.

"Then one day, my new owner, Timmy, Tom's grandson, got sick. Very sick." He rubbed his right arm. Bullseye made a soft whimper, sensing the saddening aura in the room. "He was so pale, and weak. I always stayed at his side. But he wasn't getting any better. So, Tom's father sold me to a different family, so that he could get the money to buy some medicine. That's when I knew I was _that _expensive, even though I never knew why. Until you and Prospector told me." It was the first time Woody mentioned Stinky Pete ever since the ''Al the Chickenman'' incident years ago. But there was no ill tone in his voice. Just, bittersweet.

Jessie's heart cracked.

"So, the new owner turns out, needed some toys for his daycare. He was taking in donated toys, but he pitied Timmy. Gave him enough money to buy the remedy. Traded me for it instead." He shrugged. "I met Slinky there. When the Bright Kids opened shop, it was _absolute chaos._" He laughed. Kids weren't separated by age or class. Toddlers mixed with Nine-year olds. Babies played with bigger kids. There was just one big room and the toys inside it.

The cowgirl winced at the thought. Wow. And she thought being in the 'caterpillar room' was hard enough, imagining children of _all _ages was just utterly tiring.

"Everyday, for two years." Woody emphasized the two fingers he stuck out. "We had enough, after that. Since no one ruled, or so, we escaped. Through an open window, under the wooden wall and out the daycare."

For the first time, he had felt _free_.

"We didn't know what to do next, though." Stuck in a park, just across a line of suburban homes. Waiting for something to happen. Hoping someone would find them. Take them in. _Anything._

"So, how did Andy get _you_ then?" Jessie asked. They were nearing the end. Almost.

"Same way, any lost toy would." Woody played with his hat. "Andy's grandfather saw me on the porch. Thought I was like an angel fell from heaven above." His rough country accent made him sound slightly smug. He chuckled.

"Andy's grandfather?" A hand-me-down. He was handled down from father to son again. For a couple or so generations, before Andy had him.

"Mh-hmm." he agreed. "Fate is weird though. Andy's _gramps_ happened to be Timmy's son."

"Wow!" The cowgirl's eyes widened. "That's... wow!"

So that explains a lot about her friend, woody. Why he was so freaked out when he lost his arm. Why he was so adamant at staying Andy's side. Why he never liked daycare. She frowned.

"But... Y-you were supposed to stay. You were supposed to be with Andy during college. Didn't you ever want that?" Jessie could not understand. He was with Andy, why did he come and rescue _them_?

Woody smiled genuinely. "Now, I wasn't the only toy around, you know..." It got him thinking. All those toys he left behind, toys that were given in a yard sale, toys from the attic that broke from the dust, low or empty batteries, toys thrown out because they where too damaged beyond repair.

"I didn't want to leave any toy behind anymore. I promised you guys, remember? _We stick together._"

For the first time in a generation of toy-over toy, he chose his family of toys, over his owner.

He looked under his left boot, which marked a vague, messy 'ANDY', and he looked at his right boot, which marked a newer, solid 'BONNIE'.

"Was it bad?" Jessie's voice broke. "Leaving Andy, and his family?"

"Well, sometimes, I wished I could still be with him. Maybe hope for the best and get played with his kids, or something." But he didn't regret the choice he made. "Still hurts though." And heartbreaking. Bittersweet, heart breaking for a vintage, old toy.

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't know." Jessie said.

"It's okay." Woody ruffled Bullseye's hair. "We're toys."

Jessie couldn't agree more.

~~(=*=)~~

**A/N: HERE'S MY BROKEN LITTLE HEART, TAKE IT.**

**I'm sorry, this is SO raw, I laugh at the purity and mild confusion of my own writing. I just **_**had **_**to get this out of my system. I have two papers to do, an exam next Tuesday, and a talent test to prepare for on the 18th.**

**This is my theory on Woody's past. Seriously. The inconsistency is noticeable, and I **_**had **_**to type it.**


End file.
